Futurists

P A R T 1 : C H A P T E R 2

I am sitting next to Ali on a hot summer day. I see the sun set over our beautiful city-colors that blend like smudged chock. It's strange to me that we only have sixteen days until summer. It makes me sad thinking of all my friends that I won't see ever again. I frown.

Ali looks over at me and he frowns, too.

"What's wrong?" he tenderly asks.

"It's going to be summer soon," I say with sadness.

He sighs slowly and looks back at Portland. I follow his gaze looking towards the drones that are shipping supplies. They used to bother me, with their once loud sound and obnoxious presence. Now, however, I just watch them without any care.

"You'll be sent to work in a few months," he says, his face hard to read.

I nod.

"Do you think you'll be sent to work with the Drone Engineers?" Ali asks hopefully.

I shake my head.

"I don't know..."

The Drone Engineers is a humble, yet, sufficient work crew. It certainly isn't like the job Dad has. Unfortunately, I don't have a chance to make a large income. Unless, of course, I am sent to the Government Headquarters for my SAT. That's what happened to Dad when he was eighteen. Ali was sent to work for the Athletic Institute as an Olympian soccer coach. We all thought he would fail his test, but then he took us by surprise getting a better job than Dad's.

"What if..." Ali trails off.

"What?" I ask concerned.

"What if you are sent to the Headquarters?" Ali suggests.

This takes me by surprise. How could I ever be fortunate enough to get a job at the Headquarters? Only the smartest are recruited and only the wealthiest can be interviewed. Why would Ali think of such a thing?

"No," I say sounding firm. "That will never happen..."

I can't get Ali's hopes up, I just can't. Life will never be the same if I do. I'll be more of a disappointment to him then I'll already be. He knows it's not possible, he knows it can't be true...

Ali turns away, as if ashamed to meet my eyes.

"Just saying, Elle...you would make an exceptional Futurist."

I know I can never speak to Ali about the SAT ever again.

*********

Someone is in the kitchen.

All I can see is darkness and all I can hear is the clatter of plates and hushed voices. Something's wrong...something's really, really wrong...

I get up, trying to be quiet but afraid that I am. Why am I afraid? If it's a real problem then Dad will help me call the police. I'm shaking as I stand, wobbly movements as I glide towards the door. My hands fumble around for the button, the green light that's hidden somewhere on this block of metal. I find it, and press it quickly with a lightheaded ache when I realize I forgot to turn the sound off. The door slides open with a loud swoosh noise. I hope that I won't regret what I'm about to do.

The hallway echos as I tip-toe to the kitchen. To my surprise the lights are on, shining brightly in a dark house. What kind of criminal would leave the lights on?

Then I see her.

Crouched on the floor with tears dripping consistently down her pink cheeks. Her blonde hair braided to perfection. But she will never be perfect, she never can be. She whispers over and over, "Why me, why me?" as she rocks her body back-and-forth, back-and-forth...

**********

I find Mom in the main room disabling the TV. The cords are flung everywhere as she hastily rearranges them. She screams at the TV telling it that it "will never know the real her" as she tears it apart from the wall.

"Mom! MOM!" I scream, running to her. "What are you doing?!"

She turns and grabs me by the shoulders. Her hair is frizzy from just waking up and her face is scrunched. Her mouth is tight as she forms the words to me.

"Elle," she says. "Elle, listen to me. They are watching our every move."

I am afraid. Who does she speak of?

"Who?" I ask.

"The government," she says hastily. "They have found a way into our system-th-they are watching us!"

"That can't be," I whisper.

"Oh, but it is, Elle. They're coming for us-for you! You MUST help me!" she cries.

And then I see it.

Her eyes....they're black...

*********

I run to Mom, I know she's in pain. She whimpers when I hug her, she cries into my shirt. I know that Mom will never be the same woman she was before, I know that. I know that no matter what I can never revisit the past to visit her again, back when she was sane. I know that her life is full of pills and doctor visits, and that I'm going to find her in the same kitchen on the same floor every night from now on. I know that.

I also know that she needs me, because I'm the closest thing to reality that she has. I'm the only thing that's real.

People will come and go in her life and 99.9% of them will be fake. I'm not.